Eli's Children Part 66

"But, Julie dear, tell me," cried Cynthia, whose face was flushed and angry; "tell me--"

"No, no. Not now. Not now. Let us get back to the hotel. I dare not stay here."

Artingale and Cynthia exchanged glances, as they led the frightened girl out from amidst the piled-up rocks into the broad sunshine, and then slowly along the sandy portions of the beach, with the result that she gradually became more calm, but she checked at once the slightest effort made by her sister to gain any information. Even when, at a sign from Cynthia, Artingale drew back, she did not speak, but turned timidly and waited for him to come alongside.

"Don't leave me, Harry," she said plaintively; so he joined them again, and walked with the sisters right up to the hotel, where Julia now seemed to have grown more herself; but there was that in her countenance which set Artingale thinking very deeply, and as soon as he had parted from the sisters, he went straight to James Magnus, whom he found in his room seated by the open window, and gazing out to sea.

PART TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

PLAYING DETECTIVE.

"I say, old fellow, I've got some news for you that ought to make you well in half-an-hour," exclaimed Artingale.

"What's that?" said Magnus, eagerly.

"That scoundrel who gave you the ugly cut on the head is down here."

"Down here!" cried Magnus, with his pale face flushing.

"Yes; and he has seen and insulted Julia Mallow."

A deadly pallor came over the countenance of the artist once more, as he rose from his chair, and caught his friend by the shoulder.

"Harry," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "you found out my secret when I thought it was hidden deeply away. You are right; your news does give me strength, and I shall live to kill that man."

"Well, old fellow, I would rather, for everybody's sake, that you were not hung; but I don't wonder at what you say, for I feel just now as if I could shove the beggar over the cliff. But set aside talking, we must act. What is to be done?"

"Let us see Mr Mallow at once."

"Bah! He would hem and haw, and look rigid, and say we had better leave the matter to the police."

"Very well, then, in Heaven's name let us speak to the police."

"What about, my dear fellow? What are we to say? Don't you see that we are helpless. The man has kept outside the pale of the law; and besides, suppose we have him caught--if we can--think of the unpleasant _expose_, and how painful it would be to both of those poor girls. No, we can't do that. It would be horrible, my dear fellow. Suppose the scoundrel is trapped, and--I only say suppose--gets some sharp, unscrupulous lawyer to defend him. It would be painful in the extreme."

Magnus began to walk up and down the room, looking agitated.

"What would you do?" he said at last.

"Well," said Artingale, after a pause, "I feel greatly disposed to take the law in my, or our, own hands."

"Why do you say _our_?" asked Magnus, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Because I look upon it as your case as much as mine. Look here, old fellow, Cynthia and I both think you are the man who would make Julia happy, and if you don't win her it is your own fault."

"And Perry-Morton?"

"Hang Perry-Morton! Confound him for a contemptible, colourless bit of canvas--or, no, I ought to say bra.s.s, for the fellow has the impudence of a hundred. A man without a pretension to art in any way pretending to be a patron and connoisseur, and, above all, to be my brother-in-law.

Hang the fellow! I hate him; Cynthia hates him; and we won't have him at any price. No, dear boy, we want you, and if you don't go in and win and wear Julia, why, it is your own fault."

Magnus turned to the window, and stood looking out dreamily.

"Faint heart never won fair lady, Mag," cried Artingale, merrily; "and how you, who have always been like a Mentor to this wandering Telemachus, can be such a coward about Julia, I can't conceive. Not afraid of the brothers, are you?"

"Pish! Absurd! How can she help her brothers!"

"Well, then, what is it?" Magnus turned upon him slowly, and gazed at him fixedly.

"Harry," he said, "you love Cynthia?"

"By George! yes, with all my heart," cried the young man, enthusiastically.

"Yes," said Magnus, "I am sure you do. Then it should be the easier for you to think of a love where a man looks up so to the woman he worships that he would sooner suffer than cause her a moment's pain, when, knowing that she does not--that she cannot return his affection--"

"Hold hard. Now look here, my dear Magnus, don't let sentiment take the bit in its teeth and bolt with you, or else we shall have a smash. Now I say, look here, old man, why cannot Julia return your love?"

"It is impossible. She is engaged."

"Bah! what has such an engagement to do with it? I tell you I believe that poor little Julia is perfectly heart-whole, and that the flower of her affection--I say, that's pretty, isn't it?--I told you not to let sentiment bolt with you, and I am talking like a valentine! But seriously, old fellow, I am sure that Julia detests Perry-Morton."

"How can you be sure?" said Magnus, gloomily.

"Very easily, my cynical old sage. Don't sisters indulge in confidences, and when one of the confidential sisters has a young man, as people in the kitchen call it, doesn't she confide things to him?"

Magnus looked at him for a moment or two excitedly, but a gloom seemed to settle upon him directly after, and he shook his head.

"No," he said, "it is hopeless; but all the same, Harry, we must, as you say, put a stop to this annoyance. What do you propose?"

"There are two courses open, as Parliamentary people say."

"Yes; go on. You are so slow; you torture me."

"Well, not to torture you then, my dear boy, one course is to get a private detective."

"No, no; absurd. I'd sooner employ the genuine article."

"The other is to make private detectives of ourselves, and quietly keep watch and ward over our treasures--eh? 'Our treasures' is good."

"Yes, that seems the wiser plan," said Magnus, thoughtfully. "But it will be hard to manage."

"Where there's a will there's a way, my dear boy. You join with me, and we'll manage it."

"You would not speak to Mr Mallow first?"

"No, my boy, we must take the matter in our own hands."